Children of Mind and Magic
by Lauryn R
Summary: All shall be revealed in due course. Know this - it will be a tale unlike any other. Woven from the very fibres of their souls, you will not know where you have landed until it is too late. Do you dare to go down the rabbit's hole?
1. Prologue Part I

**Children of Mind and Magic**

 _ **Prologue**_

The air was thick and heady. A sweltering mass of stale heat hung stagnantly in the small underground chamber. It had once been a boiler room, belonging many years ago to the ancient building above. Life hadn't visited these halls in decades. None, that is, except for his. Despite the inactivity of a no-longer functional household, heat still saturated the little dive he called home. It was stifling, suffocating, and it never _ended._ If only it wasn't just the heat. The constant battle of internal wits was exhausting. There were days where he often wondered what the point of all this…aloneness was. What was the purpose of surviving when he had nothing and no one; nothing but a dingy, overheated cavern in the depths of what felt like hell itself. He had been holed up in his safe zone for longer than he cared to remember; holding onto nearly invisible threads of hope that one day things would be better, that he could make things right, the way things should have been. It was these threads that kept the panic at bay, kept the loneliness from overwhelming him into a numbness he wouldn't be able to come back from. The time to act was coming; he could feel it stirring within his subliminal mind, slowly rising to the surface of his consciousness. Hold on. He just had to hold on. Just a little longer.


	2. Prologue Part II

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, and the Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. This story and storyline belong to me, as well as any character that may be introduced into the world of Harry Potter. This disclaimer applies to all chapters.

 **Children of Mind and Magic**

 **Prologue Part II**

Gabriel slowly inched upright in his makeshift bed, the weariness from the night evidenced in the corners of his eyes. He'd had another dream. Images of a long forgotten cave, shrouded in darkness and hidden away in the deep wilderness of a French forest. Instinct guided him to focus on the place in his mind's eye. The fuzziness slowly subsided, giving way to a sharper image. Something pulled his attention to the entrance of the cave. There! Nearly overlooked by the elements surrounding it; a tiny piece of aged parchment lay hidden within the camouflaged crack of a weathered rock. The stirrings in his subconscious strengthened, pushing ever upward to the surface. This was it, the sign he'd been looking for.

Closing his eyes, Gabriel took a steadying breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he willed his heart to stop racing. He'd prayed for this moment for years. Now that it was upon him terror gripped his heart. He had one shot at this. Once he began, there'd be no turning back, no fixing of mistakes should any be made. Searching for the courage he felt lay dormant in the pit of his stomach, Gabriel reached for the ball of heat that resided in the center of his chest; a gift from his father. He wrapped his hope around the little ball, focusing on the feel of its pulse as it chimed in time with the rhythm of his own heart. A feeling of comfort grew, like a balm of warm honey flowing over his body. Approval. His instincts were guiding him in the right direction and he felt his father's approval in the heat of the energy hidden within him.

Slowly extricating himself from his dingy bed, Gabriel set to gathering the things he'd need for his journey. He didn't have much. In fact, he had next to nothing. A few changes of old tattered clothing, a faded leather jacket, and a couple of pairs of firm, steady boots, now worn down from years of use. His leather bound journal, inscribed with his initials – another gift from his father many years ago, when he'd still been able to remember the planes of the man's face – lay beneath the threadbare pillow upon his bed. So much time had passed. He could no longer hold on to the few images he had of the man who'd left him alone, who'd taken him from the comfort of the world he knew and deposited him into a cold, stark reality devoid of human interaction, of love. Once, when he was younger, he'd harboured an intense resentment for the man who was his father. He'd ached for him and hated him all at once. He'd read the inscription on the first page of his journal, knew that it was necessary for his father to do what he did, but it hurt. He was alone because of him. He was alive because of him. He was safe. He'd long since reconciled his thoughts of hate and anger. And now, in its place was a despaired gratitude. He understood why his father had done what he did, why it was necessary. He only hoped that one day, very soon, he'd be able to see the man again and live a life different to the existence he'd been living for over thirty years. His mind felt so old, heavy with responsibility and duty, but his body was that of a young man's, barely on the cusp of adulthood. It was strange, the stark contrast of wisdom and youth. Gabriel was thankful for that now as the journey he faced was sure to be strenuous, pushing him to the limits of his physical and mental endurance. He could do this. He had to do this.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Gabriel resumed the assessment of his inventory. He needed just one last thing – his wand. Looking down at the makeshift shelf next to his bed, Gabriel took in the thin but solid length of ebony. It was a beautiful wand, intense in colour and rich in magic; at its core, the hair of a unicorn and the feather of a phoenix. A unique wand, it had chosen him before he was old enough to know what magic was. He had not yet reached the age of four when he was whisked away to this place he now called home. Placed in a stasis spell for seven and a half years, aging as one would whilst in a coma, and supported by magic fed through his veins, sustaining his very life force. He would be back, but it would be some time before he laid eyes on his humble little lair once again. Looking about the room and sighting the last of his cherished items, Gabriel hid away a small bag, no larger than the size of his palm. Inside the bag lay treasured trinkets, precious books and phials of memories – everything he'd ever needed to know about life and magic. These items were sacred to him; they were his teachers, his guides, and he would need them once again when he returned.

Closing his eyes, Gabriel focused on the image of the cave and the rock in his mind's eye. Reaching down into the centre of his being, he forced his magic through his veins and out his body. Within moments he'd disapparated from the small room with a loud crack.

* * *

Landing softly behind a shadowed tree, Gabriel quickly crouched low in the thicket of brambles about him, the powdery snow crunching quietly beneath his feet as he went. It was cold, below freezing, and it took a moment before he adjusted to the sudden shift in temperature. The boiler room had been sweltering, whereas now the crisp cold air snapped at his skin, forcing his senses into alertness. The sound of silence permeated deafeningly through the air. He could do this. He had to do this. Gathering his thoughts, Gabriel assessed his surroundings. He noted the dusky tone of the forest around him. Shadows crept along the length of shrubs lining the rocky outcrops that littered the forest floor. Night was fast approaching and his instincts told him he was deep within the wilds of east France. The cave had to be close. Moving agilely along the outcrops, Gabriel felt for the magic that tethered him to this place. He could just make out a large, dark shadow in the distance. That had to be it, the thrum of magic informing him of his proximity to his target. He crept soundlessly through the shadows for what seemed like an age before finally finding himself at the opening of the cave that had plagued his dreams. Gabriel's eyes searched the entrance for the rock he knew must be there. Small, and off to the side, undistinguished and barely noticeable, it lay there, insignificant and uninspiring. A notice-me-not charm must have been placed upon the rock in case non-wizarding passers by stumbled upon the hidden treasure it concealed. Feeling along the rough sandstone surface of the rock, Gabriel ran his fingers down its posterior side, noting the grooves and cracks his tips discovered. Right down the bottom, a fractured bit of sandstone lay bare the smallest corner of frayed parchment. Gently, Gabriel coaxed the item out of its hiding spot. It was protected by layers of magic, bound by a multitude of wards that would prove impenetrable to the common wizard. He searched the archives of his mind, flicking through each book and spell, and magic lore he'd ever learned about; anything that would give him a clue. Minutes passed before his mind abruptly stopped on the memory of a Muggle book he'd grown up with. It had been his favourite. Wind in the Willows; a fantastical tale of animals and their adventures. It wasn't unlike his own situation – searching for what was lost, through the wilderness he too must go. He was alone; he was at the mercy of the elements, of time, of expectations, and he had to give himself over to all that he'd ever felt – hurt, betrayed, forgotten, angry, despaired, cherished, believed in, loved, determined, hopeful. He was in a world that suffered; he himself had suffered because of grievous wrongs committed by those that would see the world cold and baron of magical diversity. He alone was given the chance to make it right. And he suddenly knew what words were needed. Seemingly insignificant when read within the confines of a children' book, he whispered,

"This is the end of everything." Slowly, the wards melted away from the parchment, revealing words in the same cursive script he'd come to associate with his father.

' _My Dearest Son Gabriel,_

 _You have come a long way in these trying times and have had to endure the demons of this world's treacherous past. For that, I am deeply sorry. Your quest has only just begun and you must not fail. You will be faced with challenges that will daunt you, but do not give up, my son, for if you fail, then all will be lost. I regretfully place this burden upon your shoulders and hope that you succeed where I could not. Your responsibilities will be many but I have faith in you. You have the power to achieve all that I will ask of you. Follow the light in your heart and you will find your way._

 _Your first task is upon you. You must venture deep into the recesses of the cave before you. There you will discover a passageway leading further still, down into the darkness. A precious treasure lay hidden within its depths. You must find it, and protect it, at all costs. Love and nurture that within your care. You have all that you need inside of you. Do as I say and you shall succeed._

 _Always and Forever,_

 _Your Father_

Gabriel placed the fragile piece of parchment safely within the folds of his worn jacket. There would be time enough, perhaps, to read over the letter again once he was safely back home. Right now, however, he needed to focus on the task before him. What could be so precious that it needed to be hidden deep beneath the earth? Approaching the mouth of the cave, Gabriel strengthened his resolve. His father was counting on him. The world was a harsh, unfeeling place. The Dark Lord had seen to the total annihilation of Muggle-borns, their families, and all those who sympathised with them. Harry Potter had lost the fight fifteen years ago, and with him, any hope of a safe and prosperous world for all wizard kind. The boy had fought valiantly, battling against the evils of pureblood elitism, but he had fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord; betrayed by one he trusted as the hex from their wand hit him from behind, rendering him motionless as Voldemort's killing curse engulfed him in green light. Before long, the Dark Lord took control of the Muggle world too. Millions were dead; many were slaves to pureblood families. Those that were left were few and far between. Their existences, he imagined, were probably much like his own – clandestine. At times, he wasn't sure if the life he led was much better than the ones of those who were caught. He felt imprisoned, chained to a fate he'd never asked for. He wasn't so unfortunate as to never be able to leave the confines of his safe zone, but travel too far outside the parameters - he risked the secrecy that had spared his life in the first place. No, his life, such as it was, was better than the lives of the captured. He didn't know what he could do to change it, but as long as he held on to his hope and the belief that things could be better, he was certain he'd find a way. Stepping forward, Gabriel began the long trek down into the darkness. His search for the precious items had just begun.


	3. Chapter One

**Children of Mind and Magic**

 _ **Chapter One**_

The cave was cold, though protected from the elements outside it maintained a temperature slightly higher than the forest surrounding it. Gabriel trekked carefully down into the cave's depths. Dampness clung to the sandstone walls around him, giving birth to an old, musty smell, which only intensified the deeper he travelled downward. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see where he was going. With a whisper, the tip of his wand lit up, shedding beams of soft light onto the ancient stone. The thrum of magic increased. He could feel himself getting closer to whatever it was that was hidden down in the deepest recesses of this primordial site. Looking about him, Gabriel recognised the images of bison, elephants, foxes, and a multitude of other creatures painted on the surface of the delicate sandstone. Rock art. The grotto he now stood in evidently had a long history; people had resided there tens of thousands of years ago and the thought comforted him as he crossed through chambers and edged along passageways. By now he'd trailed over a kilometre into the cave's deep interior. Several minutes and some wrong turns later, Gabriel had reached a spacious cavern, signifying the end of the complex labyrinth of stone corridors and pathways. He looked around the chamber, seeing nothing but darkness and the old, cold stones that imprisoned him. There was nothing down here. At least, nothing one could detect upon first inspection. Closing his eyes, he felt for the tether of magic he'd been following. Gradually, his mind's eye revealed an iridescent blue cord stretching the length of the chamber, piercing through solid rock at the cavern's far end. There was another compartment concealed behind the main pocket of space he was currently holed up in. Making his way over to the back of the chamber, Gabriel gently placed his right hand upon the surface of the cold rock, invoking the magic of a phrase he'd not before spoken.

"Ostendo sum ut quod est occultus intus **."** _Reveal that which is hidden within_.

The words were whispered softly, but they were what'd been needed as he felt the sandstone beneath his hand begin to heat, the vibration of magic tickling the sensitive skin of his palm as it did so. Slowly, the wall of the chamber melted away, revealing what lay sequestered behind it. Gabriel stood there, unmoving as his eyes took in the sight before him. His mind reeled. Despite his having experienced this kind of existence first hand, his mind was unable to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. There, suspended high above the ground were two children, teenagers really, floating in an invisible bubble of dreamless sleep. Their eyes were closed in a state of induced stasis. How long had they been there, and how old were they? They looked to be no older than sixteen, but the stasis had no doubt slowed down their aging, much as his had done to him over the years of prolonged exposure to such magic. Their skin glowed a delicate tone of olive despite the lack of sunlight and their hair was the darkest shade of black he'd ever seen. Twins, then. He made his way over to their airborne bodies, inspecting them with a slow, scrutinising eye. They were clad in nothing but their own skin; their bodies defined by agile muscles, taut from lack of use. Who were they? What were they doing down here? When he began this mission he had not expected to find what now lingered in the air before him. A thought suddenly struck him and Gabriel hastily pulled from his pocket the piece of parchment he'd discovered earlier. Scanning over the page, his eyes landed on the damning passage he hadn't entirely made sense of when first reading it: ' _A precious treasure lay hidden within its depths. You must find it, and protect it, at all costs. Love and nurture that within your care_ _._ ' Was he supposed to be responsible for these kids now? He had no idea what he was doing, whom these boys were, or where they'd even come from.

Taking out his wand with a slightly unsteady hand, Gabriel cast the charm that would cushion the boys once he removed their stasis states from their bodies. It was a delicate bit of handling, removing their individual wards whilst simultaneously keeping them suspended and unconscious. The cushioning charm was an extra failsafe should his juggling of the spells turn out to be less than successful. Slowly removing the enchantments that kept the boys motionless, Gabriel quickly cast an additional charm to preserve their comatose condition before guiding their bodies to the floor of the chamber. The cushioning charm held and they landed without so much as a sound. He stood there for a moment, utterly still. He'd gotten them down, safely. Now what? Circling their immobile bodies several times, Gabriel noticed a small, black leather bound book, no larger than the palm of his hand. It lay almost completely hidden within the grasp of one of the boy's loose fists. Gently removing the book from stiff, unyielding fingers, Gabriel cracked open the front page and scanned the notes written therein. Numbers. Lots and lots of numbers. He looked contemplatively over at the boys for a moment before resuming his assessment of the notebook. No, not just numbers, measurements, weights, dates, and times. It was then that he noticed the names etched in small scrawl next to two sets of diagnostics. Justiel Atem Potter; Krystian Kyara Potter. What the hell was going on? Potters? As far as he knew, the Potter line had died with Harry the night he lost the Battle of Hogwarts. Gabriel felt unsettled, his mind was a mess of half thoughts and confused questions. Hastily skimming the page once again, he considered the information in front of him. The boys were born just over a year after Harry, which put them at thirty years of age, chronologically speaking anyway. Biologically, however, they were still young men, adolescents. He would have to run some diagnostics of his own to ascertain exactly what their biological ages were. If they were born when Harry was one that meant they'd been placed in stasis shortly before Lily and James had been killed. Dumbledore must have known something was going to happen to the Potters, or, at least, the Prophecy would have made him weary for the family's safety. But why not remove Harry too then? No, Harry had been needed for their 'cause', like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. A lot of good that had done, he'd still lost. They all had.

Shaking himself out of his contemplations, Gabriel once again took in the details upon the pages of the book: sons of Lily and James Potter and younger brothers of Harold James Potter. This he knew. Their blood type - Rhnull. He'd not heard of that particular type before, which meant it was extremely rare. He had to be careful with them then. In the past a simple blood replenishing potion would have aided patients who suffered from severe blood loss; however, the wizarding world was nothing more than a shadow of its former glory; there was no possibility of obtaining life saving potions and he had no practical experience brewing his own. Gabriel's knowledge of magic theory was vast. He was frighteningly intelligent and a gifted wizard, but he had lacked all opportunity to apply his knowledge in fields that required equipment and ingredients he could never get hold of. It was maddening but there was nothing for it. Reading on, he noted their birthday – 5th September 1981. He couldn't imagine how the Potters must have felt, having to let go of their newborn children, freezing them in time for an indefinite period. A pain lanced through his chest and for a moment he felt angry for the boys. They'd had their lives taken from them, growing older without ever living. He knew what that felt like, waking up physically older and not recognising the world around you. Magic had kept him alive and aging; the pulse of the raw energy feeding him knowledge and power whilst his body slumbered. He'd emerged from his stasis possessing wisdom far beyond his years and he suspected his father's magic, fed into his very being, had something to do with that. Gabriel hoped the twins had received the same raw magic he himself had, if not necessarily from the same source; James and Lily had been formidable and their love immense – Harry had been proof of that. In the end, they'd sacrificed their twins in order to save them. He felt sure the boys would have some understanding of the world despite having never lived in it. He, at least, had been allowed three and a half years of life before he was committed to nearly eight years of nothingness. By the time he was eleven, the stasis placed on him broke and he began his magical training, guided by books and his father's memories, but he had been alone, stuck in that god forsaken boiler room with naught but himself for company. Krystian and Justiel, however, wouldn't be alone, they had him, and he would not fail them.

Crossing quietly over to their unmoving forms, Gabriel crouched down close to them. Placing a hand on the shoulder of each boy, he considered, for a brief moment, the chamber he was in. The boys had been down here, alone, for thirty years. They hadn't been aware of their surroundings, or even of themselves, but he felt a pang of regret for them all the same. Thinking of his infinitely warmer boiler room, Gabriel pooled his magic in the pit of his stomach and apparated back home, unconscious twins in toe.

* * *

Back in the small, humid room that acted as his home, Gabriel transfigured his shabby bed into an awkward, somewhat lumpy couch. Years of undergoing constant magical adjustments had rendered most of what he owned into warn out pieces of furniture – including his clothing and bed linens. The use of magic over and over again on the same objects came with an inconvenient price, and he was now forced to deal with less than comfortable gear. Gently, he placed the boys down upon the small couch and removed the spell that had kept them comatose. They would awaken naturally on their own, but there was no telling of how long that would actually take. Settling in what would no doubt be a lengthy wait, Gabriel smoothly guided his hand down the inside of the sofa, retrieving the journal that had been under what was once the pillow upon his bed. Having retrieved the book, he slid down the wall next to the transfigured couch, a tired breath of air escaping him as he did so. He opened his journal, turning to the next sheet of clean parchment, intending to document the day's occurrences. It was best to keep a record of everything that followed from here on out. No doubt it would likely turn out to be an imperative practice. He was startled, however, to see a cursive script slowly appear on the parchment in front of him. In all his years with this book, he'd never known it to write in itself. Something told him that finding the boys had triggered the next stage of tasks awaiting him.

 _Gabriel,_

Well done, my boy. You have found the Potter twins and brought them to safety. I must ask still more of you. Teach them all that you know. Train them to use their magic. Keep them safe, even at the risk of your own life. I know I ask a great deal of you, however, they are instrumental in the fight laying in wait just beyond the horizon. I had hoped that Harry would be victorious, but as you now read these words, I must deduce the battle of the Light has been lost. Do not despair, my boy, for though the battle was lost the war has yet to be won. It can still be won.

 _There are others, Gabriel. You must find them, and bring them home. They will need your guidance, your support, and your protection. They are key to this fight. Do not be afraid of what lies before you. You may, in the end, have to sacrifice your own life in order to save the lives of those around you. There may be no other recourse and for that, I am truly sorry. I feel a deep sadness in my heart that your life has been devoted to serving a cause I had hoped would no longer exist. I had wished for you a different future and, it would appear, I was not strong enough to give it to you. You must now forge a different future, though, I regret, it shall not be for yourself. Nevertheless, you have the chance to make things right for many others, and you must. You are my last defence against Tom, Gabriel. The burden now falls to you, my boy. You must do whatever it takes to see peace restored to the world._

 _Bring them home._

 _Always and Forever,_

 _Your Father_

He snapped the book closed and dropped his head back to rest against the cobblestoned wall. He was mentally exhausted. The effort of wrapping his mind around the fact that not just one, but two more Potters existed was almost more than he could handle. The fact that there were ' _others_ ' utterly overwhelmed him. Gabriel wasn't sure he had what it would take to see this mission through. He'd trained his entire life for this very moment, but somehow it felt like he still knew nothing; like all his knowledge had suddenly evaporated into nothingness the moment he'd laid eyes on Justiel and Krystian Potter. Turning his head in the direction they lay, he observed them in quiet contemplation. They didn't look as though they'd just spent the past thirty years in a comatose state. They looked as though they were simply sleeping after having spent a long, hard day at work. No, not work, school. They looked far too young to be active members of professional society. Then again, he looked far younger than the thirty-five years of life he'd lived; he barely appeared a day over twenty. The thought reminded him of his earlier intention to cast his own diagnostics on the boys; he did so now, and was not shocked to see they were biologically fifteen years of age. Slightly younger than he'd first estimated, but if he managed to pull this mission off, then perhaps them being younger would be a positive side effect of the stasis they'd been in for so long. They would have more time to grow, and to learn all the things that couldn't be learned from books or by listening to lectures. They would have the opportunity to live their youth and make friends, maybe even experience the heartbreak that was young love. All things he'd never had the chance to do, and probably never would. He may have been twenty for all intents and purposes, but his mind was every bit his thirty-five years, and he felt it now more than ever. And what about the others? There wasn't exactly a large selection of candidates who could've even had secret children to hide away. Sirius Black had not fathered any children, had not even been involved with anyone at the time, as far as he understood. And the Longbottoms, they'd had only Neville before they were tortured into madness by madness himself. The Weasleys would never have been able to keep a secret child…well…secret. Their child's hair would have been entirely too red to be concealed and the parents entirely too proud to want to do so. Remus Lupin could never have fathered children, even had he wished for such. His condition rendered his sperm genetically incompatible with the female human egg. Unfortunate as it was, those who suffered from Lycanthropy would never be able to have offspring of their own. And Minerva McGonagall had been…he felt rude for even thinking it…too old to have had any children of her own. She would have made a fierce lioness had she ever done so though. That left Severus Snape…no, just no. From what he'd read – and seen from memories – the man had not the patience for children and could barely even tolerate fully-grown humans in his presence. Then again, he'd sooner have expected the Dark Lord to pirouette like a prima ballerina in pastel pink than find the long lost Potter twins, born in secret and kept in secret for thirty years. He supposed other members of the Order could have had children hidden away in safety. After all, he had been just such a child. Of one thing he was certain, however, all this speculating was getting him nowhere, fast.

Gabriel tucked his journal away and stared unseeingly at the wall opposite him; barely six feet separated him from the other side of the room. The smallness of the space had never really bothered him though. That'd probably change once the boys woke up, however. Catching his eye in a tiny mirror – which had been transfigured from a shard of broken grey slate, he considered his own face for a moment. His cheekbones were high and defined, though not sharp enough to appear severe. Above his small, linear nose rested almond shaped chips of polished obsidian, which were then hedged by long, honey coloured lashes. His skin, whilst the palest of whites, glowed with an almost ethereal quality to it. And his hair, a beautiful auburn tone with flecks of burned caramel through it, rested in loose, choppy waves down to his chin. He had no idea if he could be considered a handsome man or not, but he liked to think he wasn't terribly unattractive. He had height on his side, with his stature reaching a healthy six feet and two inches. His body was well defined, the constant physical training developing his muscles into athletic condition; and something told Gabriel he'd be putting his body through its paces soon enough. A moment after he'd completed the thought, a small sound rippled through the air just to his right. The boys were waking up already. He must have been lost in thought a fair bit longer than he'd thought. Taking a deep breath, Gabriel readied himself for what was about to come, and turned to face twin pairs of sparkling emerald eyes staring unblinkingly back at him.


	4. Chapter Two

Children of Mind and Magic

 **Chapter Two**

Luna Lovegood skipped airily down the cold stone corridors of Hogwarts. As her bare feet slapped against the hard granite floor, a chilling air wrapped itself oppressively around her small frame. The darkness of night lured her along, and Luna could hear the castle's whispers calling to her. It was like a siren's song – enchanting, seductive.

It had happened several hours earlier, during the light of day, whilst bouncing happily away from her potions class that Luna had glimpsed the tail end of a most elusive Hyper-Coloured Shindingle. Bending down to re-thread the curly lace of her shoe, she'd spotted the little creature's fluffy spear-headed tail dart around the corridor's bend. Calling out to the obscure beast to wait, Luna speedily chased after it. By the time she'd rounded the corner in which the mythical being had fled, it was, devastatingly, nowhere to be found. Considering her situation for a moment, Luna resolutely determined this not to be unusual behaviour for the tiny animal; after all, they _were_ nocturnal. Her mind made up, Luna vowed to return in the darkness of night; she _would_ uncover the mystery that was the Hyper-Coloured Shindingle.

Well, night was now well and truly upon her and, in nothing more than her purple and blue polka dotted flannel pyjamas, Luna ducked and dashed through the dungeon passageways. She'd already passed the nook in which she had first discovered the diminutive. Her anticipation mounted; it was not going to evade her this time! She could feel it, she was sure she was close to him now! As fast as lightning, something caught her eye. Luna quickly turned towards a shadowy corner; her heart began beating faster with the excitement of discovery close at hand. It had to be in there! Slowly, she crept towards the dark alcove, inspecting the small space as she inched ever closer. A knight's armour lay hidden in the darkened corner. The little critter, she knew, would be waiting behind it. Quickly as could be, Luna grabbed at the suit, plunging the armour ever so slightly forward as she raked her eyes down the length of the armour's backside. Nothing. There was nothing there! Blinking vacantly, she peeked behind the iron suit again, and then several times over, sure that she'd missed something. But empty air was all that greeted her. She had been convinced Melvin, for that is what she'd named the tiny creature, had taken refuge right here, away from the frigid castle air. He must have been faster than first thought, Luna determined. Of course, if he had known she'd been hoping to converse with him on the ins and outs of being a Hyper-Coloured Shindingle, he'd not have spirited away so hastily, she was sure of it.

Sighing in disappointment, Luna sunk to her knees, disheartened by her almost-discovery. As she leaned heavily against the cold stones of the wall, the feeling of disenchantment overwhelmed her, she could always try again tomorrow night, she supposed. Feeling herself deflate further still, Luna mourned the loss of a missed opportunity. She'd felt certain that tonight's escapade would bring about promising findings. Resigning herself to having to wait yet another night, Luna made to leave. Using the suit's arm as leverage, she pulled herself up from the icy ground. With a gritty heave, the arm rustily bent forward, and the knight moved slightly to the right, revealing behind its armour, a dark, dusty room. Staring uncomprehendingly at the newly vacant niche, Luna contemplated her options. A few, quiet moments passed; there were no movements, no sound. Then, suddenly, something in her mind must have clicked into place and she stepped hesitantly forward. All of a sudden, several large sconces littering the length of the walls of the small room flashed to life, illuminating everything within. Breathing in deeply, Luna drank in the sight of thousands of leather-bound books tightly lining the room's numerous bookshelves. She was awed by the sheer expanse of books the room contained. Inching her way further inside, Luna noted the mustiness of the air, offering her the knowledge that none had visited this space in many, many years.

Taking one small step, then another, she trailed her fingers across the spine of each book as she passed them by. This unexpected discovery, though not the one she'd initially sought, was, she supposed, going to have to suffice. Though, when Luna thought about it, there was a lot to be gained from books. She was still a Ravenclaw after all! With that, she centred herself in the middle of the room, turning around slowly and soaking in the wealth of knowledge that lay before her. Most assumed she was just a dotty, airheaded girl with no boundaries to focus her intellect upon. To them, she was like a mass of nervous energy. They thought she needed mental discipline, and that she lacked the necessary reasoning to differentiate reality from fantasy. Indeed, had her skin not contained her, she felt certain she'd fly out everywhere at once. This, however, did not mean that her mind lacked fierce clarity and unquestionable intelligence.

Her eyes narrowed, rapidly flitting from one title to the next, searching the shelves for she knew not what. Suddenly her eyes landed upon a thick, well-read tome in a shelf across the way; its spine cracked from repeated use. A large, dreamy smile abruptly broke along her youthful face. It was a muggle fairy tale! Trekking the short distance to the bookcase, Luna plucked the volume from its shelf, and quietly sunk to the soft, carpeted floor. Curling up next an old purple cushion that lay close by, she clutched the aged leather book tightly in her hands.

With a light, wistful laugh, Luna opened the heavy cover of the delicate book - The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson. As smart as she was, she'd not had much to do with muggles and their world, and so knew nothing of their myths and fables. She had the good sense to recognise something muggle should it cross her path, but no knowledge of the thing in itself. And so, with bated breath, she began to read.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

As the story came to an end, Luna found herself wiping away several stray tears as they rolled like fat dewdrops down her reddened cheeks. A watery smile slowly spread across her face as she silently closed the back cover of her now favourite book, casting her eyes unseeingly towards the vaulted ceiling. Luna lost herself in a daydream of princes and mermaids, and cute little crabs that conducted orchestras and rode around the ocean floor on pretty seahorses; one day, she'd surely love to find her perfect match, just like Ariel have found Eric.

As time passed, Luna became increasingly aware of a sharp pressure digging into her palm. Removing her hand from the tome, she noticed a crisp edge of parchment jutting out from a blank page near the back. Slowly working the fragile sheet, Luna gradually pulled the parchment free from its confines. It was a letter, written to whom, she did not know; nor was there a signature indicating the author of such a missive. Once again, she began to read.

 _To Whom It May Concern,  
_

 _Though, I believe, it may concern none. Should you be reading this letter, then you've no doubt unintentionally, and perhaps unwisely, stumbled upon this hidden room, and, consequently, the book in which this letter was concealed._

 _If you seek to enlighten your mind with books of magic or deepen your pockets with treasures and trinkets, then you'll surely find yourself very much disappointed. Hidden amongst the words of the script you now hold within your grasp, is nothing but my most intimate self, and the lightest part of my soul._

 _If continuing upon this path is what you endeavour to do, then I must caution you, you begin this journey at the risk of your own soul, and those of everyone you hold dear. To uncover the light, is to release the dark, and once released, it can never again be returned._

 _Sincerely Yours._

Tracing her finger along the delicate curves of the letter's final word, Luna slowly released the breath she'd been holding. She knew better than to involve herself with missives such as this, missives that would lead to the dangerously unknown. She may have been spontaneous and seemingly careless at times, but she also hailed from a House that prised intelligence and truth above all else. She knew when to leave well enough alone, and Luna intended to do just that, especially when she felt a menacing air of uncertainty suddenly wrap itself around her body like a cloak spun from the heaviest material. But then…the light; the letter spoke of a light, a soul. Could she really ignore that soul, even in the face of possible perils? Before the question had even solidified itself in her mind, Luna felt the answer deep within her being. No matter how dark the darkness, if there was even the smallest measurement of light, she would face whatever challenges arose; she would release the dark to save the light. She had no idea what that darkness was. She had no idea what the light was. She had no idea what form either would take, and no idea of the soul that lay beneath the letter's words. But she knew she had to try. If she didn't, the knowledge that she may have left someone's soul, the very essence of a being, trapped in a time and place worse than any she could imagine, would eat away at her until she couldn't breathe. Her mind was made up.

Tapping the tip of her wand to the centre of the parchment, Luna gently whispered the words of a charm she didn't remember learning, _"mrr.t=t pw irr.t=t"(1)._ Almost instantly, the air around her became heavy, weighing down upon her form until the air was forced painfully out of her lungs. The room became impossibly dark as the temperature dropped to icy levels. Suddenly, Luna felt her body begin to close in on itself, much like she imagine apparition might feel, before being sucked towards an unknown destination. With a painful pressure that seemed to explode within her, Luna sunk into the depth of darkness, her body disappearing from the spot it had been just moments earlier.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

(1) "That which you do, is that which you wish" (phonetic sound – 'me-re-te-tch poo i-re-te-tch (in ancient Egyptian the 'e' sound is always like ' **e** gg'). This is the spell that Luna spoke when she tapped her wand to the letter. It is indeed ancient Egyptian in its phonetic form. The equal signs can be confusing when first reading them but they are not pronounced, they simply come before a personal pronoun, to denote said personal pronoun. Before you can translate Egyptian Hieroglyphs into English, or whichever language you wish to translate it into, you must first assign each glyph a phonetic sound value. This is called transliteration. When looking at a glyph, you transliterate it into phonetic sounds, and then translate the phonetic sounds into the desired language. Ancient Egyptian doesn't have written vowels, except for 'I', so Egyptologists have made it a general rule to put the sound value of 'e' between most consonants. There is a special font for transliteration, which I cannot use here and so it cannot be read completely correctly; however, the transliteration is incredibly close to what is written here, just add a little dash underneath the two 't's before the equals sign for the 'tech' sound and there you have it.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter makes references to mature themes of non-consensual relations. It is only briefly mentioned and not in detail, nor does it involve any of the specific characters within this story.

Children of Mind and Magic

 **Chapter Three**

Hermione slowly made her way along the cold, dark corridors that led deep below the ground's surface. The dungeons were not exactly on her 'top five' list of favourite places to visit within the castle. Outside of her potions lessons they felt, to her, so isolated, so unfeeling and she momentarily regretted her decision to leave the comfort of Gryffindor Tower. If the boys knew she was down here, willingly, and why, they would be livid. And that was putting it mildly. Her stomach twisted painfully; solid knots of apprehension making it almost unbearable for her to breathe. Her heart was racing impossibly fast and she wondered, for a moment, if perhaps she should listen to Harry and Ron, whose voices were wrapping around her mind, acting like the conscience she, at this moment, seemed to lack. The voices implored her to see reason, that what she was about to do was reckless, unwise, and, most of all, unsafe, which, coming from them, was saying a lot. The truth of the matter was, though, that it wasn't really Harry and Ron who urged her to stop, it was her own mind, pleading with her to not make the mistake she was on her way to making. It was so much easier to pretend her doubts weren't her own but those of her best friends. The boys never seemed to know better in any given situation, always looking to her for guidance and help. Pretending her doubts were theirs made it easier to ignore the worries her mind was slowly beginning to feel. Hermione always had to be the sensible one of the trio. She was studious and serious, and took pride in her studies. She was highly logical, and thought ahead to the various scenarios that could stem from any given situation at any given time. Everyone relied on her to always know what to do. It was this same logic and reason that had so often gotten the three of them out of trouble after Harry and Ron had gotten them into trouble in the first place. She supposed that her need to prepare for any eventuality was what had driven her to the decision she'd come to, and why she now found herself heading towards the deepest part of Hogwarts.

Hermione brushed the doubts away and focused on the path with which her feet were taking. After everything that'd taken place in the past few months, she wasn't going to allow herself to meet the same ends as those who'd been victims of the ongoing attacks on Muggle-borns. No, Hermione thought resolutely, she had been right not to inform the boys of her plans, they'd have only tried to stop her and she couldn't afford for that to happen. They would never understand her reasons; they'd never even try to. If she were being honest, Hermione wasn't entirely sure she, herself, understood the essence of her reasoning. No, that wasn't quite right. She knew what she was doing and why, but her specific choice still surprised her somewhat. The driving force behind her current actions had been easy enough to reconcile – raids on families of muggle-born witches and wizards, then Luna having gone missing two weeks prior. Hermione had begun to feel cold inside, helpless. Muggle-borns were being snatched right out of their homes, during Hogsmede weekends, from Diagon Alley, anywhere and everywhere they were out in the open, vulnerable, and alone. They'd be taken to Death Eater revels, raped, then tossed back onto the streets from whence they came, barely alive, and mentally shattered. It was a warning to the Wizarding World of things to come. It hadn't been long before Professor Dumbledore had restricted Hogsmede weekends to once a month, and even then, it was only the seventh years who were allowed to attend, and heavily chaperoned for their own safety at that. Many of the victims, Hermione recalled, were students from Hogwarts. Some she even knew personally. What was left of their minds once they'd returned, were unhinged fragments of semi-lucidity, which appeared for only moments at a time. She trembled just thinking about it. Luna's disappearance, however, was still a mystery to all. She was not muggle-born, nor had she been outside of the castle when she'd gone missing. And, unlike the others, she had not returned. The professors were turning over every conceivable possibility as to her whereabouts, but nothing, as yet, had shed any light on her sudden disappearance. Everything was just such a mess. So much was outside of their control, of her control. But she refused to be another sitting duck, waiting for the inevitable to happen. If she were to ever be taken, then she would decide the terms. They could violate her body, but they could not violate her mind; that was hers and hers alone. Hermione had watched the young women, and some men too, break over and over again after having been returned to their lives, or what was left of them. Their minds were shattered from the harsh tortures performed on both body and soul and it broke her heart to watch them crumble before her eyes, knowing there was nothing she could do to help them. Not even Dumbledore could get through to the inner sanctum of their minds. It was then that Hermione decided she would not let the same happen to her. She'd spent weeks thinking about her life, what she wanted from it, what she was prepared to give of herself to others. She couldn't prevent an attack from happening, but she could reduce the severity of its consequences by deciding what to do before it, and how she would handle herself after it.

Shaking herself from her contemplations, Hermione realised with a start that she had arrived at her destination. The anxiety she'd felt only moments before intensified and she forced her breathing to slow down to a deep, steady cadence. It would not do to face her potions professor looking like a dear caught in headlights. With a resolute breath, Hermione lifted her hand and rapped lightly on the door.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

At the sound of a knock on his office door, Severus lifted his head from the fifth year paper he'd been grading. Angry slashes of red ink littered the parchment before him. The boy was ridiculously dense and that made him dangerous in class. He was turning out to be another Neville Longbottom. 'Just what the world needs', Severus thought in disgust. With a deep scowl, he lowered the quill to his desk and turned to face the door to his office. He was in no mood to entertain wayward students or staff at this particular moment, or at any moment, really. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Severus gathered the few strands of patience he still possessed.

"Enter." His voice was deep, possessing a quiet calmness that did not bode well for whoever was on the other side of the door.

Slowly, cautiously, the door cracked open, revealing none other than the second most despised bane of Severus' existence. Hermione Granger. Her incessant hand waving had aggravated him to no end throughout the years. Though, as a sixth year student, he was relieved to note, she had calmed down by a significant degree.

"Professor Snape…" Hermione began, feeling positively ill with anxiety. "I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?"

Her potions professor sat there, motionless, staring at her with with such intense dislike that it was all she could do not to flinch under his unyielding gaze. When he afforded her no response, Hermione anxiously tucked a stray strand of curly hair behind her ear, hoping the few seconds of distraction would give her the courage to continue. She wasn't exactly sure how to proceed from this point; however, she knew diplomacy was of the utmost import. Her…request needed to be handle delicately if she hoped to have even the smallest of chances at succeeding.

"Sir…" She attempted. This was already off to a bad beginning and she hadn't even asked him for his help yet.

When it became apparent that she was struggling, Severus released an inaudible sigh. He didn't have time for this. "Miss Granger, my time is precious. I do no appreciate the superfluous waste of it. Say what you must and leave."

Steeling herself, Hermione decided that the best approach was to be as direct and unemotional as possible. The man prized logic and reason and so she would give them to him.

Straightening herself up, Hermione continued with forced confidence, "As you know, Professor, there has, as of late, been a great many attacks on Muggle-born witches and wizards all over Wizarding Britain."

At this, Severus inclined his head but a fraction. She had his attention…

"Over the past few weeks I have been aiding Madame Promfrey in the Hospital Wing. Some of the students who were victims of the…revels…are being treated there, as you know." What was she getting at?

"Miss Granger, I am aware of what has transpired in recent times. Get to your point." Did she think he'd been living under a rock? Of course he knew about the attacks. They had not escaped the attention of anyone within the Wizarding community, and obviously not those who bore the Dark Mark. Even the Muggle authorities knew something was amiss. She was, in his estimation, not even close to being 'the brightest witch of her age.' He waited for her to continue.

Hermione fiddled absentmindedly with the signet ring on the index finger of her right hand. She had wanted to work up to her request, carefully, present her problem and her solution so that he would understand her reasons for asking what she intended to, but it appeared that he was not going to allow her the moment she needed to do so. The nerves she felt, coupled with her desire to get it over and done with caused her to lose her place in her speech and simply make her request without any thought as to how it would sound to the man standing in front of her.

"Professor, I have come here tonight in the hopes that you might consent to spending a night together…with me." Hermione stated without preamble.

Well, that had not been how she'd hoped to broach the matter, but he had left her little choice, pushing for her to get on with it, so she had done so, and in a manner she'd intended to avoid no less. Hermione wanted so much to look away from his unreadable gaze. To turn and leave, as quickly as humanly possible, but she also knew that he detested childish, weak behaviour, even by those who were not yet adults. Holding his gaze, Hermione felt an uneasy sort of anticipation spread through her nervous system. Nausea overwhelmed her and she felt as though she might be sick. She kept her eyes locked firmly on his, however, willing him to see how perfectly serious she was. She needed this, needed him to help her. She'd spent many hours going through her options, if she could even call them that. It had become obvious to those treating the Muggle-borns that what had truly shattered their minds was the act of forced intercourse coupled with severe mental magical attacks related to the very action they were engaged in. What made the mental attacks so damaging was the fact the witches and wizards were pure of body and soul. Just as she was. Hermione valued her mind above all else, and would not let the same thing happen to her as had been done to the witches and wizards currently residing in numerous hospitals throughout Wizarding Britain.

Severus sat there, his back taut and his muscles tense. Whatever he had expected her to say, it had no been that. Looking into eyes filled with an anxiousness he'd not before seen in them, there was no mistaking her meaning. She wasn't referring to an evening spent brewing potions for the infirmary, or researching possible explanations and solutions to Luna Lovegood's missing persons case. Not that he'd ever willingly collaborate with her in the first place. She was, without question, indicating a far more intimate, and entirely inappropriate partnership between them. Quietly, Severus lifted himself out of his chair, crossing over to the audacious witch in three quick strides.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Severus's hands had wrapped themselves firmly around her upper arms. His eyes pierced hers with such intensity she thought she might drown. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She was overwhelmed by his presence.

Looking into the watery depths of Hermione's eyes, Severus searched through her mind, looking for some kind of explanation as to why she would even consider asking such a thing of him. It was unprecedented, and highly inappropriate. He didn't think much of her academic intelligence, at least, not to the same degree as his fellow colleagues, but he would be a fool to disregard her common sense and respect for authority. What would bring Miss Granger to ask him to discount his ethical, moral, and personal obligations to himself, his position, and his students and bed her? The thought repulsed him. Sifting through her mind, Severus at once discovered what was at the source of her request. The girl was headstrong and ridiculously courageous; she would not accept that, in the unlikely event she were to be taken by Death Eaters, she'd have no choice about the activities that would no doubt take place. Miss Granger would not, of course, wish for such a thing to happen to her, nor would she willingly consent to such activities; however, should it ever occur, she would not allow them the satisfaction of thinking they'd taken something she'd chosen not to give. She would not be the victim. But what did that have to do with him? Severus was aware that she knew, as did Potter and Weasley, regretfully, that he was both Death Eater and spy for the Order; that he was often required to attend these revolting revels in "support" of the Dark Lord. Did she think he could save her? Sifting through more of her thoughts, Severus began to understand what it was she was after. No, she didn't think he could save her, didn't even consider it a possibility, as it would expose him to the Dark Lord and jeopardise the position of the Light. 'How noble of the little girl,' Severus thought facetiously. What Miss Granger was really after, was the opportunity to do things her way, before she had the choice stolen away from her. He could appreciate that, given the fact he'd never once had the opportunity to choose anything for himself, always living between the commands of two extreme sides of a fight he dearly wished he had nothing to do with. It was not secret what happened to the victims once they were returned. And, he grudgingly admitted, a mind like hers would be somewhat of a loss. But why him? What did she hope to gain by choosing him to be the person to claim her innocence? Did she think it would make it easier for her to transition from him to another Death Eater? That the stretch would not be so far, thus rendering it emotionally and mentally manageable? No, that was not it. She simply wished to give what she wanted to whom she wanted before she no longer could. Surely she could look to Weasley, or Potter, or any number of drooling, prepubescent halfwits that graced the halls of Hogwarts for such a thing? He searched deeper into her mind, determined to weed out her true intentions. Buried this far down it was likely the girl didn't even understand what she wanted herself, or why, only that she did. She could not have arrived at her choice of him as a partner without a comprehensible reason. He would find what that reason was.

Searching deeper still, Severus quickly weaved through the complexities of her mind. The depth of her soul was astounding and it took him longer to reach then he'd anticipated. Suddenly he could see it, there, a two-fold reason for her wanting to have him bed her. Miss Granger, it would seem, wished to remove the complication of becoming involved with any one of her peers. She was concerned it would compromise their efforts should she do so when she was not romantically invested in the other party. Then, there was the other reason, a much more dominant reason than the first; Miss Granger, Severus was surprised to discover, was attracted to him. He had not predicted this. Buried as far down in her subliminal mind as it was, she wouldn't even recognise the attraction for what it was. The girl respected him, admired him. She was inspired by his knowledge and intelligence and the passion with which he pursued and practiced potions. She thought him remarkably brave in the face of potential death each time he attended a Death Eater meeting or toed the line between truth and illusion before the Dark Lord. Her feelings had begun to take root and grow within her during her third year, when he'd stood between her and Lupin in his werewolf form. Her feelings ran deep, too deep, and she had no idea she even had them. The girl was irretrievably in love with him. These very feelings were what had guided her to "choose" him as her partner in her plan, but all her conscious mind knew was that he was the "practical" choice. Miss Granger had deduced that he would not want anything more from her nor want to give anything of himself to her. She thought him to be the safe choice. She thought him noble, but she'd confused being honourable with being noble. He was not gallant, riding in on his white horse to save her, he was a man of ethics, of deep seeded principles, and these principles guided him to the inevitable choices he had made and would continue to make. She would not get what she wanted. Furthermore, her feelings for him were the driving force behind her ultimately irrational choice to lose her virginity before it could be taken from her. That fear was simply an excuse; an opportunity for her to negotiate a believable reason in her mind to pursue a course of action with him that she ordinarily wouldn't ever dare take. Her subconscious mind had already justified it to the conscious part of her and then removed the evidence before she'd even realised a crime had been committed. No, she would not get what she wanted.

Pulling back from her, Severus abruptly let go of Hermione's arms, making a noise of revulsion as he did so. She looked utterly shaken from the unprepared invasion of her mind. Her eyes were glassy, a thin sheen of moisture covering the surface of her irises. He knew, however, that she hadn't even registered what he'd done. It had happened so quickly, lasting but a moment before he'd found what he was looking for and hastily left her mind. Severus moved toward his desk, his back turned to her in cold disdain.

Hermione stood, rooted to the spot she'd been standing in since first entering his office. Professor Snape's back was to her and she felt icy waves of disgust permeating from his body out towards her. He wanted her to leave, she knew, but she was frozen where she stood. She had truly offended him, her request utterly sickening him in a way she hadn't anticipated. Hermione had known it would be a long shot, and that he'd likely offer her a resounding no, deduct an obscene amount of house points, give her detention and then tell her to get out of his sight. His utter lack of acknowledgement of her presence she had not anticipated. She had misjudged the situation significantly. Of course, Hermione knew she was selfishly asking him to compromise his values for her, and she didn't truly think that he would, but she felt desperate to reclaim some sort of control of her life, her choices. She knew she was looking too far a head to something that _might_ happen, but she'd felt unexpectedly rattled. She felt so lost and she didn't know why. There was a restlessness growing within her, an overwhelming sense that she was running out of time. And an ache deep inside that she couldn't explain. All that she knew was that she was scared, scared of having everything ripped away from her, just like those poor souls wasting away in the Hospital Wing. She couldn't let herself end up like them, she wouldn't.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed the sound of splintering wood as Severus's fingers dug painfully into the edge of his mahogany desk. He still wasn't looking at her, and she still couldn't move. It was as though her feet were spelled to the floor and her mouth fused shut. She'd said more than enough tonight and the damage had been done.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Severus's anger grew. Miss Granger was not leaving, and she needed to do so, now. He needed to speak with the Headmaster as soon as possible; inform him of the situation. It was likely the girl would bury this night as deeply as she had her feelings for him, and never speak of this matter again. She would not discover the basis for her inappropriate request and, hopefully, move on with never being any the wiser for it. But it was a potentially complicated, if not dangerous addition to the equation and Albus needed to be made aware of what had transpired this night.

Severus slowly turned around to face the young woman on the other side of the room. She had not yet moved from the spot she'd been in since first entering his office. He needed to make her leave.

"Get Out. Now." Severus uttered, his voice was dangerously quiet and it shook Hermione to her core.

With those words, the invisible spell that had glued her to the floor suddenly vanished and she backed up into the door, grasping frantically behind her for the cold globe of metal she knew to be there. Locating the handle, Hermione opened the door and stumbled backwards through it, her eyes never leaving the molten pits of obsidian that burned angrily through to her core. The door slammed shut in front of her with a resounding thump and Hermione turned on her heels, running back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as her legs could carry her. She wanted to forget everything that she'd just done and go back to the previous hour, when Harry and Ron's voices swirled around her mind, telling her that what she was about to do was a mistake. She should have listening to them – to herself.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Leaning heavily against his desk, Severus ran a hand through the dark strands of silky fine hair that hung past the nape of his neck. Now that Miss Granger had left, he could begin collecting his scattered thoughts. She'd unnerved him tonight, something that rarely ever happened. He'd been taken off guard due to the completely unexpected nature of her visit, but he'd not let that happen again. It was dangerous to allow even the smallest of lapses in either his judgement or his mental shields. He had not seen this coming and determined to scrutinise his students' behaviours even more intensely than he'd been doing thus far. One wrong move and everything that they had been fighting for - that he had been fighting for, would crumble before them. He could not let that happen.

Feeling a fierce lethargy settle over him, Severus headed for the hidden door at the far side of his office. Once he'd arrived at the door, he stepped tiredly through to his private quarters, the heavy piece of wood quietly clicking shut behind him. Albus, he needed to speak with Albus. Making his way over to the fireplace in his living room, Severus threw a handful of fine green powder into the kindling of his dying fire. With the burning embers of the fire signalling its readiness for a fire call, he knelt down slowly, placing his head into the low flame and announced his presence into the room on the other side. A long night of discussions no doubt ahead of him.


End file.
